All Those Christmases
by Patano
Summary: The Bransons and all of their Christmases. Set mainly in 1921, but with retrospections to earlier years. 3x05 AU. Warning: fluff overdose. Now complete."We cannot always be unconventional. Striving for originality may sometimes deprive you of the most wonderful things. If we were always unconventional, you would never kiss me under the starry sky in the winter scenery."
1. Chapter 1: Star

_This is my Christmas present for all S/T fans. If it makes you forget just for a few minutes about Fellowes' bullshit, I'll be very happy. I don't know whether there will be further chapters; it all depends on my mood in the next few days. It's of course an AU fic with a very much alive Sybil. Though is it really AU? The more I think about it, all post 3x05 DA is only a crack!DA. Anyway, hope that you'll enjoy._

_As always, bear in mind that I'm not a native English speaker._

* * *

_**Star**_

* * *

**Christmas 1921**

The first snow decided to fall on Yorkshire just three days before Christmas. It wasn't enough, however, to make Tom Branson turn his attention from his work. He was far too engrossed in his writing to even notice his wife's entrance.

'I didn't know that I married a workaholic,' muttered Sybil quietly.

'I'm not a workaholic, just…'

'You really don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Especially to me and Saoirse,' Sybil stated and sat on the edge of their bed.

'I know. But it doesn't change the fact that I want to give you both the best future I can. Moreover, I really like my job. I'm not the sort of person that does things only for money and recognition.'

'I know. That's why I love you'

'Only that?' Tom teased.

'That and many other things. Where's Saoirse?'

'I asked Mrs Hughes to look after her while I'm working. She's practically her surrogate grandmother right now.'

Sybil smiled feebly. 'Well, after Mary gives birth, I'm sure that Carson will become a surrogate grandfather. All equal in the universe.'

They were both aware that it would not be _truly_ equal. Especially if Matthew and Mary's baby is a boy. Neither of them, however, wanted to dwell further on that.

* * *

This was not their first Christmas at Downton. It was the first Christmas, though, that they were spending at Downton _alone_. Of course they would prefer to spend Christmas in their London flat and then devote the following days to visiting their friends from work. But, as Sybil reminded her husband, they owed her family something after they had found refuge at Downton last year. Keeping an eye on Downton during her family's absence was not asking for much.

The last two years had been very eventful for them – marriage, settling into new life and jobs, pregnancy, exile from Ireland, the birth of their daughter, finally moving to London and settling into new jobs once more. Parenthood also proved to be quite a challenge.

_To spend a few days in the country would certainly do us no harm. My family is not here, so Tom should feel perfectly comfortable,_ Sybil thought while walking down the stairs to fetch Saoirse. To be honest, she was starting to slightly worry about her husband – after what had happened last year, he was pushing himself very, very hard now. Too hard for her liking. She knew that Tom wanted to recompensate her for all the problems caused by his political involvement. He was aware that she didn't expect anything like that from him or even blamed him for anything – but he still wanted to do everything in his power to make his two women as comfortable as possible. That's what he was like. To her, he was the most wonderful man walking on Earth; it hurt her that her family weren't aware of just how exceptional he was. Yes, they did warm up to him, especially after he had helped to free Mr. Bates, but they still didn't appreciate him even half as much as he deserved. It was always only Matthew. Matthew was undoubtedly a good man; but he didn't need to fight for everything in his life as much as Tom. Frankly, he didn't even need to work at all. His future was completely secure.

When Sybil entered Mrs. Hughes' sitting room, she was greeted by the most endearing sight – Saoirse was sleeping comfortably in the older woman's arms, while sucking her thumb unconsciously in a rhythmic, unhurried manner. Mrs. Hughes greeted the young mother with a small, but at the same warm, smile.

'Lady Sybil…'

'Mrs. Branson,' Sybil corrected and sat in the opposite chair.

The housekeeper smiled again, 'Right, but do not expect Mr. Carson to address you in this way… Mrs. Branson. Now, until she wakes up, can I offer you a cup of tea?'

'Certainly.'

Both women were very well aware that such intimacy would not have been accepted between them just a few years ago. Now, however they both were similarly very well aware that neither of them had anything against it.

'Baby in the house is such a joy,' Mrs. Hughes remarked.

'Soon there will be even more joy. Especially Mr. Carson will be thrilled,' Sybil responded, without any trace of bitterness in her voice.

'I'm sure of it. I think that it's time to make a confession now, Mrs. Branson. Whatever everyone else in this house may think or say, it's you who've always been my favourite of the Crawley girls. You've always been the brave one and the one with the biggest heart. I must confess also one more thing to you – do you remember the garden party, the one when the war was announced?'

Sybil's cheeks suddenly grew hotter and a tender smile appeared on her face. 'How could I forget it?'

'When I noticed how close you and Mr. Branson were, I warned him that he would end with a broken heart. I've always had the highest opinion of you, Mrs. Branson, but it was inconceivable to imagine any young woman in your position to do what you did. So, you've simply exceeded my already high expectations of you. If there is any man in the world to deserve you, it's him. Both of you have very good hearts and do not shut themselves in your own private worlds. You're open to the world even though it sometimes rejects you.'

Sybil blushed even harder. 'Tom is an excellent man,' she whispered adoringly.

'He is. Mr. Carson may worship Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley, but you two are my personal favourites. Same can be said about this little one,' the housekeeper gestured towards the sleeping child.

Sybil was too touched for words. Someone in this house seemed to be aware of Tom's worth. Someone in this house was _so_ accepting of them. While neither she nor Tom needed the world's approval, it was still extremely comforting to have someone's support.

The young woman was suddenly woken from her reverie by Mrs. Hughes, who was pointing at the child again – Saoirse was awake and desperately wanted to be in her Mama's arms.

* * *

It was a beautiful evening. The village had turned into a true winter wonderland, inviting people to walk in the fresh air under the starry sky. Yes, it was very cold; but the poetic beauty of the frosty evening was enough to warm the heart of any dreamer. The Bransons were enjoying their quiet, family stroll; it was one of those moments when nothing meant more than just feeling unity and closeness with another human being. It was one of those moments when nothing else mattered; it was just _here_ and _now_.

'If that's not eternity, then I don't know what else is,' whispered Sybil quietly, gazing at the stars.

'I'm afraid that you're not the first person to say those things,' her husband teased.

'Maybe. But the point is that the most cliché statements are usually true. Will you say that _I_ _love you_ is a cliché statement as well?'

Tom was silent for a moment. When he finally opened his mouth, his answer was simple and totally predictable, but oh-so-honest and endearing.

'I love you too. Both of you. So very much,' Sybil responded, looking at her daughter, who was sleeping again, but this time in her father's arms.

'Confessing undying love under the starry sky in the winter scenery. For the first time in our lives, we are so conventional and predictable,' Tom smiled and took his wife's hand in his.

'We cannot always be unconventional. Striving for originality may sometimes deprive you of the most wonderful things. If we were always unconventional, you would never kiss me under the starry sky in the winter scenery.'

She didn't need to say anything more. She could only wonder how, even two years after their marriage, his kisses still filled her with indescribable warmth and complete blissfulness.

'This is eternity,' Sybil heard Tom whispering against her lips. And once more, she had to admit that the simplest statements were also usually the truest.

* * *

**_Christmas 1913_**

'_Branson, I didn't know that you were such a star-gazer,' shouted Lady Sybil Crawley as she was approaching him through the snow._

'_There are many things that you still don't know about me, milady,' Branson answered, but he did not turn his attention away from the starry sky._

'_Hopefully, I'll manage to learn all of them. You're not the most secretive person on the planet. And not as unpredictable as Mary.'_

_They stayed silent for a moment and simply stood in the snow, gazing. No longer were they gazing at the stars, though – now they were just looking at each other._

_Ultimately, the young lady decided to break the silence. 'How do you feel about your first Christmas at Downton? Are you coming to the Servant's ball?'. She blushed while uttering the last sentence. She didn't know why._

'_Do I have any choice? Someone must drive you to all the Christmas parties. Yes, I'm going to the Servant's ball, even though I'm not a good dancer.'_

_Sybil didn't believe him, but nodded understandingly. 'I can assure you that out of all those Christmas parties, Servant's ball is the most fun. The least stiff.'_

_Silence fell between them again. _

'_It feels like eternity,' the youngest Crawley girl whispered quietly. _

_He knew that she didn't expect any answer to this. He just felt it. It amazed him that he understood so well a person that he had known for no longer than a year. However, he decided not to dwell on that at that moment._

'_Merry Christmas. I must go. They'll be soon searching for me. Time to dress for dinner.' The girl turned on her heels and started walking towards the house. _

_Tom knew just one more thing – that __**wasn't**__ her eternity._

_He had so many dreams, but now he realized that they weren't just about making something of himself or introducing change into the world – he also wanted to just have someone by his side to watch the starry sky on the winter day just like that one._

_Quietly he made a wish._

_One of the stars fell._


	2. Chapter 2: Snowstorm

_Yes, I plan to continue this fic. Since where I live (Poland) Christmas period lasts till 2nd February, I hope to finish it by then. I was writing this chapter while a terrible storm was raging outside my window (though there was no snow). Hope that you'll enjoy.  
_

_For your information - Matthew is alive in this fic as well.  
_

* * *

**Snowstorm**

* * *

The next morning was even colder. During the night a severe snowstorm turned a picturesque winter wonderland into a snowy fortress. The air was no longer pleasantly refreshing, but painfully cold, discouraging even the toughest from venturing outside.

When Sybil opened her eyes, Tom was still sleeping soundly. He went to sleep very late last night, working at his book until he dozed off at the desk. Sybil had to wake him up and lead him to their bed.

She didn't have heart to wake him up now, though. Instead, she placed a gentle kiss on his hair and rose from the bed with the aim to visit the nursery.

When Sybil entered the room, Saoirse was still sleeping. It always amazed Sybil how much the little one was similar to Tom; and Tom was quite a sleep-lover. He loved to stay in bed long and savour the lazy mornings. Sybil, on the other hand, preferred to be on foot as soon as she woke up. The young woman supposed that their differing preferences were a result of their upbringings – Tom had been often denied the luxury of a long sleep when he had been working at Downton, while Sybil had had serious problems with participating in the leisure lifestyle she had been expected to lead. She thought that she had fulfilled her share of leisure in life already; now it was the time to be as active as possible.

Saoirse was definitely her father's daughter, then. She didn't like to wake up early. Sybil watched tenderly as her daughter was fidgeting lazily in a little bed. The young mother was well aware that Saoirse would not wake up very soon. Since she was not expected today at the hospital, Sybil sat on a chair that stood by the window on the other side of the nursery, and began watching the winter image that was spreading behind the pane of glass.

* * *

Tom Branson loved to lie long in bed in the mornings. Even if he was awake, he never immediately left the bed. Unless, of course, when he had to, which had been very often the case during their life in Dublin. Reluctantly, the young man began to open his eyes. The first thing he laid his eyes on was the window and the raging snowstorm outside. He lazily sighed and decided to lie in bed even longer.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and Sybil Branson entered, carrying a very much awake toddler. Saoirse finally woke up and wanted to see her Da. To be honest, Sybil also wanted to spend some time with her husband.

Smiling, Sybil approached the bed and laid Saoirse beside her father. The little one screamed in delight and Tom had no more excuses for lying still among the sheets. Not that he minded it; he cheerfully reached for his daughter and put her into a warm embrace.

"Now I'm jealous," Sybil said.

"You can join us if you wish, Mrs. Branson," Tom stated in a matter-of-fact tone, and caressed fondly Saoirse's locks.

"Thank you for the permission," replied Sybil sarcastically. Despite her ironic tone, however, she was smiling tenderly at the two people that she loved most in the world.

"I remember the times when I had to wait for the permission to kiss you," Tom suddenly pointed out in a teasing tone.

"It was only _once_. And it was you who was waiting for a permission, not me demanding it," his wife decided to remind him.

"Well, after waiting for so long… Though I admit that later I didn't have to ask anymore… I had to often remind _you_ that we needed to be careful, actually. It turned out that you liked kissing very much indeed. I couldn't have a moment of peace".

"Maybe now you'll accuse me of harassing you," mocked Sybil light-heartedly, and reached for the pillow.

"Instead of beating me with that incredibly dangerous weapon, allow me to kiss you again, milady," Tom said, laughing.

He didn't have to encourage her for too long. Soon Sybil was at his and Saoirse's side and the Branson family was complete.

The snowstorm behind the window made them hesitant to leave the warm safety of the bed for hours. All three of them preferred to lie in bed close to their loved ones and to exchange kisses each time the snowstorm started to rage with more power.

* * *

In the evening, the snow did not cease to fall, but the storm was gone. Now the snowflakes were falling peacefully, in a perfect harmony with the rest of scenery. Tom decided to finally sit to his work. But to avoid the temptation of a warm bed, he made up his mind to work in the library instead of in his and Sybil's bedroom.

Tom Branson loved writing, especially about social injustice. But the quiet atmosphere of the library, the Christmas decorations hanging everywhere, and the twirling snow outside the window proved to be successful in distracting him. He laid down the pen and focused his attention on the window.

"Here," a soft voice whispered unexpectedly into Tom's ear.

Tom turned his eyes away from the window and saw Sybil standing by the armchair with a tray. On the tray there were two cups of some hot liquid. The smell coming from the cups was unbelievably tempting.

"What is it?" the young man asked his wife.

"I went to the kitchen and made us two cups of hot chocolate," explained Sybil.

"Did you make it all by yourself? Did they allow you to do so?"

"Mrs. Patmore knows that I like to spend time in the kitchen. Same with Mrs. Hughes. And Carson was nowhere in sight," responded Mrs. Branson. "So, are you going to taste it or not?" she inquired.

Tom took one of the cups from the tray and raised it to his mouth. The taste was _heavenly_. The hot chocolate did not only fill him with warmth, but also with the sense of safety, comfort and childhood memories. The liquid sweetness completely erased from his mind any thoughts about work.

The journalist turned his eyes towards Sybil and saw her quietly pointing at the window. At first, he didn't know what she was trying to communicate to him, but then he _heard_ it_._ He heard the blowing wind which was howling outside; he heard the wild cry of the universe which was determined to disturb the silence of the December evening.

Tom put down the cup on the table and instinctively reached for his wife's hand. Holding Sybil's hand was often exactly _that_ – an instinct, something inscribed in his brain, as organic and natural as putting a coat on when someone goes out into cold weather. She and no one else was, had always been and would always be the source of his strength and comfort - no matter what.

The fire was burning brightly, sending a warm glow upon the shelves and the richly ornamented books. The aroma of perfectly prepared hot chocolate was spreading throughout the room. But Tom's main source of contentedness was that he was holding _Sybil's_ hand.

He couldn't care less anymore about what was going on outside.

* * *

_**Christmas 1914**_

_Tom Branson was just finishing repairing the brakes, when he heard that someone had entered the garage. He turned back quickly and saw __**her**__. The first thing that his eyes registered was that she was smiling, and smile did not appear frequently on her face as of late. The war had changed everyone at Downton, even those who had no relatives fighting on the Continent. Sybil Crawley had become quieter and more pensive during the last few months. She didn't smile as often as she had done before. Though when it came to Lady Sybil, smiling less did not mean not smiling __**at all**__. Tom had also observed that while the young girl was becoming more and more serious, her innocence and naivety about the world outside Downton were still not completely gone. What was most important for him, then, was that her passion and interest in the real world remained unchanged._

"_I hope that I'm not interrupting you?" asked the youngest Crawley girl tentatively._

"_Of course not, milady," Branson quickly replied. "How can you even think so?"_

_In response, she rewarded him with her beautiful smile. He couldn't imagine a better Christmas present than that._

"_I know that it's a bit late, but I wanted to give you a Christmas present," Sybil informed him, blushing._

_He had bought a present for her as well, but had left it in his cottage. Damn. He needed to tell her that._

"_No problem, Branson. There will be plenty of opportunities for that," the young woman ensured the chauffeur and handed him a small package._

_It was a book. Judging by the ornamented cover, an extremely expensive book. He looked at the title. It was __A Christmas Carol__._

"_I know that you must have read it already and perhaps even more than once, but I wanted to give you something that will remind you of my friendship every Christmas. And I know how much you like books. Also, I'm sure that you have nothing against Charles Dickens. The themes of social injustice, the plight of the poor…" _

_Tom interrupted her. "Do you always explain to each other the rationale behind your Christmas presents? I've personally learnt to cherish everything I get as long as it is given with honest intentions. And I'm certain that your intentions are entirely honest. Besides, I really like __A Christmas Carol__," he finished with a small smile._

_Sybil began to think just how much she loved his smile, but quickly mentally reproached herself and decided to go home. "I think that I should go. They must be wondering where I am". _

_Branson only nodded and thanked her for the present. His attention, though, was more focused on the graceful figure moving quickly towards the garage door than on the book that he was keeping in his hands. Once Sybil left the garage, he gave out a wistful sigh and sat on a nearby bench. He needed to return to his work. The only problem was that he was no longer able to concentrate on it._

"_Branson?"_

_The chauffeur jumped when he heard __**this voice**__ again. Lady Sybil was back._

"_I… just… I went out of the garage, but there is a huge snowstorm outside. I… Can I stay here until it stops snowing?" Her cheeks turned pink, but Tom couldn't tell whether it was because of cold or… something completely different._

"_Of course, milady," he replied quickly._

_The awkward silence fell between them. Neither of them knew what to say._

_After a few awkward moments, Tom got an idea. "Why don't we sit on the bench and pass the time reading a __Christmas Carol__ together? We may take turns."_

_Sybil loved the idea, though she was cautious not to express just __**how much**__ she loved it. So, she simply nodded approvingly. _

_They sat on the bench together and soon Tom's baritone filled the enclosed space of the garage. The wind was howling loudly outside, but Sybil Crawley was too caught up in listening to Tom's __**incredibly**__ pleasant voice to pay any attention to what was happening outside. The light of a single lamp illuminated the two sitting silhouettes as well as the golden letters on the leather cover of the book. Slowly, the two moved closer to one another and two hands unconsciously met each other on the bench between their owners' bodies. They then parted hastily when Sybil and Tom realized what was happening and consequently moved towards two separate edges of the wooden block. For neither Tom nor Sybil the touch was unpleasant, though. Quite the opposite – it filled them with a strange feeling of content._


	3. Chapter 3: Christmas Tree

_Firstly - thank you for all the lovely reviews! And please keep them coming :) I'm so happy to cheer you up a bit with this little story.  
_

_Here is Chapter 3. Hope that you'll all enjoy :)  
_

* * *

**Christmas Tree**

**Christmas Eve 1921, part 1**

"I hope that they'll be on time," said Carson to Mrs Hughes.

"They are always on time, Mr. Carson," the housekeeper reminded him.

"But this year the family is not here. They know about it, so they may decide that they don't need to be punctual," replied the butler grumpily.

"What about Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson? Don't they belong to the family too?" asked Mrs. Hughes and raised her eyebrows.

"They are, I suppose… but it's hard for me to see them as a part of the family. They have their own life and are so little connected with Downton at present," Carson quickly explained himself.

"I understand. You should also go and remind them that the Christmas tree is coming today"

Carson cringed. He didn't like to discuss matters with Mr. Branson. Thankfully, the Bransons wanted to eat their meals alone, with no servants in the dining room. Carson did not approve of breaking the rules, but in this case he felt an immense relief. "I really don't like talking to them about Downton's matters."

Mrs Hughes sighed, "Then at least talk to Lady Sybil. Someone must inform them. They are in charge of Downton at the moment."

The realization that the former chauffeur was now in charge over his beloved house hit Carson strongly, but (as always) he was able to maintain his composure and go to do the task that simply needed to be done.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Bransons were having their luncheon, completely unaware that even then they were a topic of conversation at the big house. They had requested to eat their meals without any assistance from the downstairs staff as soon as the rest of the Crawley family had left for Scotland. Even Sybil didn't find it comfortable now to eat while being served by other people. Moreover, for them luncheon was one of their favourite habits, whether at Downton or in London – they always discussed their days, news, Saoirse's growth, and a countless number of other issues during this meal.

Right then they were in the midst of a conversation about Tom's new book. Sybil watched joyfully as her husband's eyes were glowing with excitement when he was talking about this project. Carson's entrance made Tom stop in the middle of a sentence.

"I hope that I'm not interrupting you, milady," the butler began, "but there is one important issue that I must inform you about."

"No, you're not interrupting _us_, Carson," said Sybil peacefully, but firmly. She didn't like that the old servant had ignored her husband's presence completely.

"The matter is that the Christmas tree shall arrive this afternoon, soon after the tea."

"And then we should come to help in decorating it. We need to represent the family."

"I hope that it won't be any problem for you, milady."

Sybil smiled broadly, "Of course not! It will be a real pleasure, actually. I can't wait to show the Downton Christmas tree to Saoirse." The young mother smiled happily at her husband. Tom immediately returned the smile.

_These two are far too unconventional for my taste, but I have to admit that they seem to be in a perfect harmony together_, admitted Carson quietly. It was not the right time to dwell on such things, though – there was still a lot to be done downstairs. Hence, Carson gave Lady Sybil a small bow and excused himself out of the dining room.

As soon as he had left the room, the young couple began talking again.

"So, Mr. Branson, how are you going to survive the fact that your impressive skill in choosing and bringing home a Christmas tree will not be needed this year?" Sybil teased her husband.

"I will endure it, my darling wife. But do not worry – this year I'll show you my exceptional skills when it comes to _decorating_ a Christmas tree," her husband responded and chuckled quietly.

"Full of himself, as always," Sybil stated with a small, adoring smile.

"You'll see it for yourself after the tea."

* * *

Christmas trees at Downton were just as colourful as trees in other homes. There was no rule that would require all the decorations to be in the same colour or at least the mix of two colours. No. Christmas trees at Downton might not have been stylish, but they were for sure vibrant and full of life. There were of course adornments bought from the big house's budget, but everyone could bring their own decorations as well.

Decorating a Christmas tree was quite a ceremony at that house. All of the servants were allowed to come to the hall and help in the task. Similarly as was the case with the colour of decorations, no rules applied here; and when it came to the household so dependent on rules, all such situations were quite an event. For less than an hour there was no class division – everyone was taking part in the same task, everyone was co-operating with all the people gathered, regardless of their status.

That was why the Bransons felt really comfortable during this little "event". They finally didn't feel like the odd-one-outs for whom there was no place in Downton's rigid hierarchy.

Especially Saoirse enjoyed the hustle and bustle as well as the multitude of colours; she couldn't stay still in her Mama's arms, but was wriggling and screaming joyfully all the time. Her Papa, then, was eagerly decorating the Christmas tree with everything that came into his hand. He was only making short breaks in order to wink or smile at his two women.

Sybil had to admit that he knew how to adorn a tree. _Tom is truly a man of many talents_, she thought. She was awoken from her reverie by Saoirse, who suddenly began screaming even more loudly. Sybil looked round and saw Tom approaching; he was in a hurry to hang a pink glass ball on the tree, but managed to quickly whisper into her ear: _Stay here even after everyone leaves_. Then, he was gone again.

* * *

The hall was quiet and peaceful once more. The atmosphere, however, had been completely altered. The feeling of seriousness and antiquity had been replaced by a sensation of unabashed joy and liveliness.

Sybil Branson was staying in front of the Chistmas tree, taking delight in its simple, completely non-stylish beauty. Saoirse was already asleep in her arms, snoring quietly. The tranquility of the moment would have been unbearable for Sybil if it hadn't been for the signals of life sent by the tree opposite her.

It was in this position that Tom found her (he had gone downstairs to put superfluous toys into the storage). In the candlelight coming from the tree, Sybil looked like a Madonna with a holy child. Thus, the Christmas image was complete.

Tom didn't want to break the silence of that moment. The pensive mood suited what he wanted to do next. He approached Sybil quietly and gently touched her shoulder. When she turned to face him, he handed her a small, faintly shining object. He looked at her expression and immediately knew that she recognized it.

"You still have it? You've never told me…"

"I do. And I always will."

* * *

**_Christmas 1915_**

_The War was still raging on the Continent, but this didn't affect Christmas preparations at Downton (aside from the fact that the general atmosphere was more sober than usual). As was the tradition, the servants and the family met in the hallway and were together participating in decorating the Christmas tree._

_Tom Branson was not in mood for any such events. He was worried. Very much worried, actually. He was worried about his country. He was worried about the possibility of conscription. The young man knew that he couldn't fight in the name of the British king. That one thing was certain._

_He wasn't going to lie to himself – he was also worried that he would need to leave **her**… and perhaps never see her again._

_"Branson?" a quiet, husky voice suddenly asked. Tom turned around to see Lady Sybil staying still and looking at him pointedly_

_"Milady…" was all that he was able to utter. He had been too deeply lost in his thoughts to immediately focus on reality again._

_It was however the young woman that had something to say. "I've heard that you're soon leaving us for a while. I can bet that you're excited to visit your home after such a long absence."_

_"Indeed, milady. I miss Ireland and I miss my family. I'm thrilled to see them all again."_

_Sybil didn't reply to that statement immediately. She was pondering something for a moment before asking unexpectedly, "But you'll come back?"_

_Tom wanted to shout: "Of course!", but ultimately only simply nodded and fell silent again._

_It was once more Sybil's turn to say something. But instead of saying even one word, the young lady started to walk towards the Christmas tree._

_Tom was utterly puzzled by her behavior. Did he say something wrong? Or did she leave him because he hadn't replied to her question in a verbal manner?_

_His gaze followed her as she approached the tree and took something from it; then, she began walking towards him again._

_When she reached his side, Tom noticed that what she was carrying was a small angel made from plasticine. Its painted gold hair shimmered elegantly in the candlelight like a beacon of hope._

_"I want to give you this. I made it when I was a child and I used to hang it every year on the Christmas tree. Now I want you to have it as a token of remembrance. No one knows what the future may bring. This will remind you of us wherever you are. Moreover, now you must come back here to put it on the Christmas tree next year as well," Sybil informed him. Similarly to her companion, she seemed to be in a very pensive mood. She also seemed to be quite nervous._

_The chauffeur understood what the young woman had been trying to say. The little angel was more than just an ordinary Christmas gift – it was a token in case he soon landed on the other side of the English channel. It was a token that was to remind him of a certain young lady while laying in the trenches._

_Did she give it to him as a token of friendship or… something more? What did she mean by us? Us as people at Downton, or us as…?_

_He knew that this figurine would soon become also something else for him – a promise. _

_His promise to Lady Sybil Crawley._


	4. Chapter 4: Christmas Cake

_Yes, I'm determined to finish this fic. __It is still winter after all, isn't it :P. Moreover, we all need some fluff in this fandom and what is a better way to deliver fluff than a Christmas story? This chapter will be especially... sweet. It fits quite nicely, because in Poland we celebrate Fat Thursday tomorrow (or rather today... it's nearly 12 AM here). As always, hope you'll enjoy :)_**  
**

* * *

**Christmas Cake**

* * *

**Christmas Eve part 2**

Later in the evening the Bransons decided to sit in the library by the fire and drink some of Mrs. Patmore's delicious mulled wine. Saoirse was napping in the nursery, and there was an exceptional air of tranquility in the room, even for a place that is usually associated with silence.

"Finally some peace. I love decorating Christmas trees, but I also love to have some time alone with my darling wife," announced Tom, who was slowly drinking his wine with a blissful smile.

Sybil didn't drink much and instead of entering a state of half-conscious blissfulness, she rose from her armchair. "Tom, I'm afraid that I haven't bought all the Christmas presents yet."

"It's Christmas Eve, love. The thought of you wandering alone in the dark around the village or Ripon worries me."

Sybil smiled sweetly at his concern and explained, "I'm not going far. What's more, I'm not going to be alone."

Tom furrowed his brow, but said nothing more. He trusted Sybil entirely and was sure that the mystery would soon be revealed.

* * *

The clock struck nine. Tom had just finished re-reading _A Christmas Carol_ for a countless time (yes, it was _that_ copy) and decided to check whether Sybil had already arrived home safely. First, he went to their bedroom, but she was not there; so he went to the nursery, but the outcome was exactly the same. It was then that the young husband started to worry. He looked for his beloved wife in a few more rooms that she could have gone to, but to no avail.

Tom Branson was not a man to get worried easily and he was aware that Sybil was perfectly capable of taking care of herself; but it was nine in the evening, and all the shops had been already closed.

Firstly, he decided to check whether the car was in the garage. To his dismay, it was. The young man tried to ignore a wave of panic that started to creep on him and directed his steps towards the chauffeur's cottage.

* * *

The visit to the chauffeur's cottage did not shed any light on the situation. Pratt didn't know anything. In fact, he claimed that he hadn't seen Lady Sybil all day long. Thus, Tom had no other choice but to alarm Carson and Mrs Hughes and send a search party to look for Sybil both in the Downton village and in Ripon.

When Tom entered the Servant's Hall, he immediately heard a loud sound of something crashing on the floor. Hence, the former chauffeur headed for the kitchen, hoping to encounter at least one member of the staff there. To his surprise, the person whom he saw upon entering the kitchen was… his own wife.

"Tom… what are you doing here?" asked a surprised Sybil, who was cleaning the floor at that moment.

"Searching for you, of course," responded Tom quickly. "It's nine in the evening, Sybil. All the shops are closed. You didn't take the car…"

Sybil's eyes grew wide. "I didn't know that it was so late. I'm sorry for worrying you, Tom. I just wanted…" she sighed and suddenly became silent.

"What did you want? Please tell me, Sybil. I'm worried about you. You told me that you wouldn't be alone…"

"I wasn't alone earlier. Mrs. Patmore was with me. She left not long ago and I stayed here to clean the kitchen after… I had baked a Christmas cake for you as a surprise, " the young woman finally revealed her secret.

Tom felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I'm sorry Sybil, I didn't mean to…"

"No, there was no use in keeping this secret any longer. Things got out of control. It's no-one's fault. Anyway," here she sent her husband a mischievous grin, "you don't even know what kind of cake this is. I've only whetted your curiosity."

"You little minx," laughed Tom adoringly and placed a soft kiss on Sybil's forehead.

* * *

"You know," said Tom when they were later lying in their bed, "you were right. Now I'm totally impatient to taste your cake. "

Sybil grinned in response and gently caressed his hair, "My dinners may vary in quality, but my cakes are always good, aren't they? And it's not the only gift that I prepared for you."

Tom suddenly sat up in bed and gave his wife a very serious look. "You are well aware that you and Saoirse are two best gifts that I've ever received and that I could ever receive? I know that it's not original…"

"Not original even for you," Sybil interrupted him, "I hear this every Christmas. Not that I don't like to hear it. In fact, I love to hear it. I'm only surprised because you usually say these words on Christmas Day, not on Christmas Eve."

"So, now we'll have a new tradition. I will be always saying those words on Christmas Eve."

"In bed?"

"If you wish so."

Then, Sybil's broad smile turned into a reflective, thoughtful one.

"What are you thinking about, love?" Tom felt a need to ask.

"I'm thinking that I shall also be saying something to you every year as part of our own Christmas tradition."

"Contrary to me, at least invent something original," Mr. Branson winked at his wife.

"I love you. So _very_,_ very_ much," Sybil whispered into his ear.

Her husband said nothing more in response; he only decided to seal their tradition with a kiss.

* * *

**_Christmas 1916_**

_That year it was especially difficult to decide what to give Branson for Christmas. So much between them had changed. So much (but still too little) had been said. She had practically broken his heart only because deep inside she was still only a scared little girl. Sybil knew what would be the best gift for the young chauffeur, but she couldn't give it to him, at least not yet. What could a young woman give to the man whose heart she had broken not long ago?_

_Then - she knew. Could there be any better balm for a broken heart than this? And could there be any better way of saying "I __**do**__ care"?_

_A Christmas cake was a perfect gift of love; a gift that spoke louder than words._


	5. Chapter 5: Carols

**Carols**

* * *

**Christmas Day part 1**

The Christmas dinner was eaten in an incredibly merry atmosphere. How could it be any different when it was attended by an _entirely_ charming toddler? Small children were not usually present in Downton's dining room, but Saoirse Branson had parents who didn't care much about the word "usually".

After a delicious meal, the Branson family retreated to the library. Saoirse started playing with her dolls on the floor, while her parents relaxed on the sofa and asked for two cups of coffee. Tom even suggested that he would go downstairs to fetch them himself, but ultimately decided against the idea when he saw Carson's twitched face. Nevertheless, Sybil was determined to bring her cake into the library herself.

When she entered the room again, she was greeted by the sound of someone singing. The young wife was able to quickly recognize her beloved husband's voice. Tom was singing _Come All Ye Faithful_ to Saoirse, who was joyfully waving her little hands and laughing in delight.

Sybil watched her darlings contentedly, pondering the depth of love she felt for both of them. _Those are the standard Christmas reflections. Many people feel like this on Christmas Day. But the difference is – I feel like this everyday, not just on Christmas Day. How really lucky I am!_

"Milady?"

Lost in her thoughts, Sybil did not notice that Carson had appeared in the room. "Yes, Carson?"

"I've come to ask whether you need something."

"Thank you, but no, we don't need anything," replied Sybil and immediately turned her attention to Tom and Saoirse again.

Carson nodded, but did not leave the library. Moreover, he seemed to be very conflicted about something... Finally, he cleared his throat and muttered, "Forgive me for the intrusion, milady, but I just want to say... that… Mr. Branson has a very fine singing voice." Having said those words, Carson lowered his eyes in embarrassment, but Sybil only gave him a radiant smile.

Meanwhile, Tom changed his repertoire and was now singing _Jingle Bells_ loudly and merrily. Saoirse was on cloud nine, Sybil was crying from laughter and Carson… was humming and jiggling his leg.

Sybil pretended not to see the old butler's excitement – she was well aware that Carson would be extremely embarrassed if he knew that she was watching him furtively.

It was a merry, merry Christmas indeed.

* * *

Sybil watched with delight as Tom was swallowing her cake piece by piece.

"You know," he suddenly mumbled between the bites, "when I saw you baking your first cake with Mrs. Patmore, I made my decision to propose to you."

"You saw that I could make a good housewife, that is?" replied a very surprised Sybil. She didn't expect Tom to think in this way.

"No, love. I would marry you even if you couldn't make a cup of tea," he winked at her, "but I saw then that you enjoyed doing such simple, daily chores - that you would enjoy leading a common life."

Sybil nodded her head understandingly and reached for the cup. "I do enjoy it. Especially since I can share it with you and our daughter."

Silence fell between the two spouses. Each of them was pondering their life together. Each of them was smiling faintly. Each of them felt a comforting warmth spreading throughout their bodies.

Only one person could make them return to reality again. Little Saoirse Branson became bored with the sober atmosphere that had fallen upon the room – it was not in this energetic child's nature to lie still for too long while the adults were engrossed in their own reflections.

Her parents immediately rushed to calm her down, but none of their usual methods seemed to work at that moment.

"I think that I know what we may try. Sing her something," Sybil proposed to her husband.

"You saw for yourself that my singing can only make her more excited."

"Then sing her something calming."

Ultimately, Tom decided to give it a try. After all, they had nothing to lose; even if Saoirse would not stop fussing, there was a big chance that she would at least stop crying.

The next step was to decide what to sing. Because Tom was fully in the Christmas spirit, he opted for a carol; he just wasn't sure which _exactly _to choose.

The young father's eyes then fell on his two precious women sitting together on the sofa, the little one closely embraced by her mother's arms. _Of course. There is only one carol that I feel like singing at the moment._

_Silent night holy night  
All is calm, all is bright  
Round yon virgin mother and child.  
Holy infant so tender and mild,  
Sleep in heavenly peace.  
Sleep in heavenly peace._

Sybil and Saoirse often reminded Tom of Madonna and the Holy Child. _In a way, all mothers are like Madonna, _he mused,_ they love their children more than anything else in the world and are willing to do everything in their power to protect them._

_Silent night holy night  
Shepherds quake at the sight,  
Glories stream from heaven afar,  
Heavenly hosts sing alleluia;  
Christ the Savior, is born  
Christ the Savior, is born._

The little girl's eyes closed. Her father's clear and pleasant voice had a calming effect on Saoirse. She didn't have any will to cry anymore, she just wanted to feel her Mama's warm embrace and her Da's beautiful voice. Saoirse could not yet tell her parents that she loved them, but she certainly knew what love felt like and relished in that feeling.

_Silent night holy night  
Son of God, love's pure light  
Radiant beams from thy holy face,  
With the dawn of redeeming grace,  
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.  
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth._

Sybil couldn't be more content with life than at that moment. She thought just how lucky she was to find true happiness and her place in life at such a young age; she was well aware that some people could not achieve this state even within their whole lives. The young mother then wondered how happy Mary and Joseph must have been. Yes, they were poor. Yes, they had to sleep in a stable; but despite all this they were happy - because they were together. _That's the most incredible thing_, Sybil thought, _how similar they were to common people. And this is the most beautiful truth about Christmas._

* * *

**_Christmas 1917_**

_It was true that things were sometimes awkward now between them, but nevertheless she had to see him. Seeing him always gave her strength even though it also entailed some pain and longing. It was Christmas; if she wanted to spend time with someone on that day, it was definitely him._

_Sybil Crawley finally approached the garage. The snop of light reassured her that he was inside. The young girl's heart started to beat faster and faster. She finally opened the door and stepped into Tom Branson's territory._

_Tom's face lit up when he saw the woman he loved. Yes, this visit would undoubtedly lead to another sleepless night, but he needed it nonetheless. She was the source of his strength even though she was also the exact reason for the heartbreak that he repeatedly had to endure._

_"Hello,"whispered Sybil._

_"Hello. How are the Christmas preparations at the big house?"_

_"Nothing unusual. I was at the hospital for the whole day, anyway."_

_Silence fell between them. But it was not this nasty kind of silence that draws people apart; it was this kind of silence that brings people the joy and comfort of simply __**being**__ with another person._

_Everything was as usual then. Talking. Discussions. Longing looks. Awkward pauses. Smiles. Laughter. A painful goodbye._

_However, there was one thing that wasn't part of the "usual". Once Sybil had left the garage, she heard some sounds coming from the inside. Someone was singing. She had thought previously that she knew everything about Tom Branson – but it turned out that she had been mistaken. It turned out that Tom Branson had an incredible singing voice._

_Oíche Chiúin, oíche Mhic Dé,  
Cách 'na suan, dís araon,  
Dís is dílse 'faire le spéire,  
Naíon beag gnaoigheal ceannanntais caomh,  
Críost 'na chodhladh go séimh,  
Críost 'na chodhladh go séimh.*_

_Sybil couldn't recognize the words, but she most certainly could recognize the melody. Suddenly, her eyes welled up with tears. Ireland, Tom's true home. Ireland, the country that needed him so much. Ireland, the place where he could do so much more than here. Ireland, the place… she so wanted to see with him._

_Why was he still staying at Downton? Could it be…?_

_She prayed to God that one day he would be singing the same song with a much less heavy heart._

* * *

** The first stanza of "Silent Night" in Gaelic.**


	6. Chapter 6: Dancing in the Snow

**Dancing in the Snow**

* * *

**Christmas Day part 2**

"Sybil?"

"Yhm?" the young woman turned lazily under the blanket. They were still relaxing in the library, the only difference was that Saoirse had been put to bed half an hour ago.

"Do you really want this day to be over?" Tom inquired and pressed his lips to Sybil's hair.

"I don't really… but Christmas is a state of mind, darling; tomorrow is a day too. Besides, what else can we do now than relax together?"

"Remember that your family comes back tomorrow. And trust me, I can think of something," Tom winked at his wife.

"Is that some part of your Christmas present for me?"

"You may treat it in this way, yes… Oh come on, don't tell me that you won't enjoy a romantic stroll with your husband on a Christmas evening."

Sybil giggled and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, "Don't be so dramatic, Mr. Branson. But you're right; I will certainly enjoy a romantic walk with just you and no-one else."

* * *

Downton's grounds were still covered with snow even though the temperature was quite high for a winter evening. Thus, the weather conditions were ideal for an evening stroll – the atmosphere was still very much Christmassy, but it wasn't freezing, and the air was actually quite refreshing.

As a consequence, Sybil quickly recovered from her "lazy tiredness" and was walking briskly by her husband's side, laughing merrily.

"Where are we going, by the way?" the young woman suddenly asked.

"I told you – it's going to be a surprise," responded Tom matter-of-factly.

But Sybil was able to quickly solve the riddle – of course it had to be_ that_ place.

* * *

Tom went first, so when Sybil approached the garage, there was already light inside.

"So, we're going to spend a romantic evening in the garage yet again. Are you feeling nostalgic?"

Tom grinned broadly, "I'm feeling nostalgic, but no, we're not going to spend this evening here. I only used this place for strategic purposes."

Sybil gave her husband a questioning look, but Tom only laughed mischievously and approached the car. "I needed a place to hide a few things and I don't know much about Downton's 'secret stores', mind you. I know this place very well, then... and we don't use the car, so... "

Sybil's eyes grew wide as she saw Tom taking a huge basket out of the vehicle. "What is it? Are we going to have a picnic on the snow?"

"You're quite close… but not exactly… We're going to have... a Christmas party on the snow."

Sybil's jaw dropped, but soon a radiant smile appeared on her pretty face. _It's so much in Tom' style_, she mused."You're the craziest, most wonderful man on the planet, do you know that?" she finally voiced her thoughts aloud.

Her husband only smiled contentedly.

* * *

Sybil couldn't remember whether she'd _ever_ attended a better party. Before the war she had had to attend a number of balls, so she certainly wasn't inexperienced in that respect. She loved dancing and having fun, so she hadn't found those parties to be unpleasant, but the company there had often been dreary and the atmosphere stifling.

At that moment, though, she was bouncing inside with happiness; she was in the best company she could _ever_ imagine and they were entirely free to do what they wanted. Tom was a creative sort of man, after all; he for sure knew how to organize an unorthodox party. For example, he had put into the basket all the things that are usually used to make snowmen so that he and Sybil could organize a small competition just between the two of them. Always a perfect gentleman, Tom declared his wife a winner. In response, Sybil rewarded him with a kiss "for making the weirdest snowman she's ever seen".

Then, they decided to eat something. As it turned out, Tom's mother had sent him a package full of her culinary treats as a Christmas present. Tom had kept them especially for that special evening. The Bransons took two chairs out of the garage and placed them in the yard in front of it. Between the chairs they placed lanterns with lit candles inside which also came from Tom's surprise basket.

"Do you want to burn Downton?" remarked Sybil jokingly.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. "No chance even if I wanted to, darling, but we'll be careful anyway. Though I do suppose that some people might get suspicious if they saw us… but I know from experience that this place is safe from prying eyes," he explained and winked at her.

The meal was absolutely delicious, but it was not the most important thing about it. The most important was that while eating Mrs. Branson's treats, they both felt as if they had been at their old Dublin flat. For Tom it meant even more – for the first time in more than a year he was able to taste Irish food. Both of them felt _deliciously_ free to do what they wanted and to be as unconventional as they desired to be.

Finally, Tom rose from his chair and approached his wife, holding out a hand to her. "Come on, Mrs. Branson, time for a bit of activity, " he urged.

"What are your plans now, Mr. Branson? Yet another surprise?"

"Indeed, love… can there be any party without dancing?"

Sybil's eyes grew wide again, but soon a glowing smile spread throughout her face. She took Tom's hand and followed him into that part of the yard which was covered with a thin layer of soft snow. To her surprise, though, Tom let go of her hand and retreated towards the basket. After a moment, she saw him walking towards her again, but this time… carrying a small flute.

"I thought that you would dance with me, not play the flute!" she teasingly chastised him.

"I'd love to, my darling, but we need some music."

"Can you play the flute, actually?"

Tom made a strange face, then shook his head and chuckled, "No, but I can blow into it and produce some sounds, and that is already something in our situation."

It was very strange, but Sybil could feel excitement bubbling inside her. She felt as if she had been a little girl again. What she was doing was more similar to jumping in the snow than dancing, but neither she nor he husband cared about it. Neither of them also cared that instead of music, the flute was only producing raspy whistling sounds.

After a few minutes, Sybil needed to stop in order to catch some breath. Tom stopped blowing into the flute as well.

"Are you all right, love? Or do you have enough?"

His wife did not immediately respond to this question; she hesitated for a moment, but then sprang to him and took his hand into hers. "Dance with me," the young woman pleaded.

Tom didn't even pretend that he had not counted on that when he had been planning that whole evening. He quickly accepted Sybil's invitation and soon they were dancing in the snow together in a close embrace, Tom humming some melody that Sybil had once heard in Dublin.

It was romantic. It was nostalgic. It was magical. It was… beautiful. Soon tears of happiness began to run down Sybil's cheeks. Tom suddenly stopped humming and looked at his wife's tear-stained face. He didn't ask her what was the matter; he knew. He knew because he knew Sybil as much as he knew himself. He knew because he felt exactly the same as she did at that moment.

Quietly, Tom released Sybil from his embrace and headed towards the basket again. After some time, he returned carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses on a small tray. He then opened the bottle and the Bransons clinked their glasses in complete, wintry silence.

Both were deeply lost in their thoughts at that moment. Both were also pondering the same thing – how happy they were to be allowed to spend a Christmas like that. Both, finally, leaned at the same time and poured their feelings into a deep, loving kiss that lasted and lasted and didn't seem to end…

* * *

**_Christmas 1918_**

_He so hopes that he will be able to hold her close and kiss her next year. He so hopes that she'll spend first Christmas with him as his wife next year._

_Each day brings more and more hope to him. She no longer only sends him signals that she loves him, but she also sends him signals that soon they'll leave this place together. Of course he's still worried that maybe fear will ultimately defeat her or that she'll decide that leading a simple life is not what she truly wants… but he cannot stop imagining next Christmas and how different it may be from this one._

_But this one wasn't bad too. Not bad at all, in fact. As usual, she came to the garage to spend some time with him. They talked, they laughed, they… stared at each other; nothing out of ordinary. _

_Suddenly, Sybil rose from the bench on which she was sitting and told him that she needed to stretch her legs a little. To his surprise, she began… dancing in the garage._

_He enjoyed every minute of it. Not only because she looked so beautiful while dancing, but because there was an air of immense merriment around her. He didn't see her that merry since the beginning of the war. Thankfully, now it's over… He then thought that he would love to see her dancing… in the snow. An odd thought that appeared out of nowhere… but it couldn't leave his mind._

_Once Sybil finished her joyful dance, she ran to Tom and took his hand, inviting him to twirl around the garage with her. She forgot, however, that every touch could now place them in "danger". One moment later they were staring at each other and the space between them became electric.. but then they both drew back, knowing that it was still not the right moment, and hoping that one day this moment would come… the sooner, the better._

* * *

**So, just two more chapters to come. I can only tell you that in the next chapter the Crawleys are coming back to Downton ;)**_  
_


	7. Chapter 7: Family

_So, it's time for a 2-chapter finale! I can only tell you that here in Poland we have more snow ATM than we had on Christmas... Spring came and went... now we have snowstorms :) So, while Easter is approaching, the atmosphere is quite Christmassy..._

* * *

**Family**

* * *

**Second day of Christmas, part 1**

Tom Branson certainly wasn't ecstatic at the prospect of his in-laws' return. Actually, he was quite unhappy when he thought that he'd again need to change himself for dinner or constantly have servants around. He was also aware that for the next few days his time alone with Sybil would be limited - since neither of them had to go to work before the New Year, they had decided to stay at Downton until then. Sybil wanted to spend some time with her family and Tom would never deny her that even though staying at his wife's ancestral home was definitely not at the list of his favourite activities. Furthermore, Mary's due date was approaching, and there was a possibility that Baby Crawley would be born during their visit. Tom knew how important was for Sybil to be at Downton during her sister's labour. Tom himself looked forward only to having a drink with Matthew because he craved some male company. Unfortunately, male company also meant that he would have to drink port with his father-in-law after dinner, and that prospect certainly didn't make any of the two men happy. While they weren't in any conflict anymore, they certainly still weren't fond of each other's company.

* * *

The Crawleys arrived in time for tea, and after greetings of various kind (for example, Tom and Robert only exchanged a quick handshake, whereas Sybil's greetings with her mother and sisters were warm and enthusiastic), the whole family gathered on the sofas in the library. The Crawleys gave the Bransons the account of their stay in Scotland, and the Bransons in return told them everything that had happened at Downton during the last few days. While Tom and Sybil had been rather lenient masters of the house, Carson had not rested even for a moment in his undying endeavors to maintain a proper order at Downton. As a result, Robert Crawley could give a sigh of relief. Soon, however, the family divided themselves into a few small groups.

Tom found himself chatting to Matthew in the corner of the room. His brother in-law was quite nervous about Mary's approaching labour. After all, they all remembered how close they were to losing Sybil.

"I cannot promise you that everything will be all right because no-one can guarantee you that, but take into account that Mary is a healthy young woman, who had a normal, healthy pregnancy. It doesn't mean that nothing will happen, but it is still a positive sign. Plus, I'm sure that Lord Grantham has learnt his lesson and when it comes to pregnancies, he'll rely only on Doctor Clarkson from now on… well, definitely not on Sir Phillip."

Matthew sighed loudly, "I can definitely imagine what you went through… yes, there are no bad signs… but still…"

Tom patted his brother-in-law reassuringly on the shoulder and said, "Think about something more pleasant… about your first meeting with your child and the aftermath."

A small smile appeared on Matthew's face, only to be quickly replaced with another anxious expression. "I don't know how to behave around children. I've never had younger siblings to start with… what if I am a bad father?"

Tom chuckled inwardly, but maintained a serious composure in front of Matthew. "Everyone thinks like that before the little one is born, but later everything is so… natural… paternal instinct and all… it's something real, not just an urban legend. You'll fall in love with your child the moment you see it for the first time… and then you'll simply know what to do and how to behave around a baby."

Matthew smiled weakly, but then became tense once more. "Carson," he called over the old butler, "please, bring us a bottle of whisky and two glasses."

"One," Tom interrupted, "today is my turn to put Saoirse to bed… I cannot risk being under the influence."

Matthew only nodded, noting another example of the responsibility that being a parent entails. This could be his last day of being a carefree young husband.

* * *

In the other corner of the room, Sybil and Mary were having a similar conversation.

"I'm really worried whether I will find myself in this new role. I know that I have to be a mother because Downton needs an heir. But I don't see myself as a mother, you know. I feel totally fine with just me and Matthew, " Mary voiced her concerns to the young mother sitting next to her.

Sybil gave her sister an encouraging smile. "It's natural that you're worrying… but I'm sure that you'll fall in love with your child the moment you see it. I can tell you from my experience that while it's wonderful to be a newly-wed couple, it's even more special to be a family."

"But, you see, we have completely different personalities. You're so warm, it was easy for you to love your child immediately… you adapt to changes easily, while I don't like to have my _status quo_ disturbed. What was your reaction when you learnt that you were pregnant?"

"I was over the moon… but Mary, while you may need more time to adapt to the situation, it doesn't mean that you won't adapt at all."

"See? And for you it actually meant more changes because you take care of your child yourself, without any servants or nannies. When I learnt that I was pregnant, I was happy, but because it meant that I would be able to fulfil my duty of providing Downton with an heir, not because we were going to be a family."

Sybil did not say anything. She only took Mary's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Sybil did not doubt her sister. Maybe Mary needed more time than her to accept changes in her life, but Sybil was sure that she would eventually arrive at that point, and that she would love her baby unconditionally.

In the evening, the Bransons decided to go for a short walk together. When they returned, everybody had gone to bed already, so the young couple decided to retire as well. As they were preparing themselves for bed, they suddenly heard a loud knock on the door. Tom immediately rushed to open it. On the threshold stood a clearly drunk and extremely nervous Matthew.

"Please, help… It's Mary… It's happening… HELP!"

* * *

_**Christmas 1919**_

_Sybil rolled in the bed lazily. Today was Christmas day, so she didn't need to prepare herself for work. She moved slightly to the right side in order to cuddle herself next to Tom, but there was no sign of him in their bed. _

_The bedroom door creaked. Sybil slowly opened her eyes and saw her husband approaching, carrying a tray. He smiled at her, put the tray on the bedside table, and got into bed._

"_I was wondering where you were. So, you decided to spoil me a little today?" Sybil remarked with a cheeky grin._

"_I have nothing against spoiling you every day… Didn't I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness, after all? But now I must especially take care of you," he finished with a tender smile and reached out to gently caress her belly._

_Sybil took a deep, satisfied breath and slowly leant on her husband's shoulder. Tom immediately put his arms around her and nuzzled his face into her hair. _

"_Who could have expected that a year ago? That we would not only be married, but also expecting a child?" Sybil took her husband's hand into hers._

"_Last Christmas I thought mainly about what it would be like to have you as my wife."_

"_Same here."_

"_Sybil…"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I've just realized… next year there will be a baby with us, here in bed."_

_Sybil nodded in agreement. While she had already become accustomed to the fact that they would have a child, now another realization dawned on her: this time next year they would be a _**_family_**_._


	8. Chapter 8: When a Child Is Born

**When a Child is Born**

* * *

**Second day of Christmas 1921, part 2**

"Just don't panic, Matthew, please… " Sybil tried to take control over the situation. " I think that it'd be better to take her into a hospital just in case, instead of summoning Dr. Clarkson here… Take her into the car… It'd take too long to wake up Pratt… Matthew, give Tom the keys…"

"What? Can't I drive my own wife to the hospital?"

"Matthew, you're drunk," Tom reminded his nervous brother-in-law.

"Oh, yes, right… I didn't expect that this would happen today… I didn't"

"Well, she's very close to the due date. It's not a huge surprise that it's happening a few days earlier than expected, " Sybil decided to regain control once more, "I'll stay here and call Dr. Clarkson, then I'll inform the rest of the family. Pratt or Edith will bring me to the hospital later. But now don't waste time.… GO!".

* * *

In the hospital, Tom had a hard time trying to calm Matthew down. His brother-in-law was not merely an overanxious father-to-be, but a _drunk_ overanxious father-to-be. However, Tom remembered how nervous he was when Sybil was giving birth to Saoirse, and because of that, he was very patient with all of Matthew's quirks.

Suddenly, both men heard footsteps and saw Sybil and Edith walking down the hospital corridor. The Crawley sisters were hastily dressed and desperate for any news.

"She's inside with Dr. Clarkson and the midwife, " Tom informed them. Sybil only nodded and reached for her husband's hand – it was a gesture that they needed to do each time they were worried about something.

"Mama and Cousin Isobel should arrive soon with Pratt, " muttered Edith and sat on the chair.

Loud screams came from the other side of the door, causing Matthew to again enter into the panic mode…

* * *

It was finally over. Matthew went first to see Mary and his newborn son. Then, the rest of the family also entered the room to meet little Master Crawley.

Tom had to smile when he saw Matthew being unable to stop holding the child. The father-son bond was clearly already there.

Similarly Sybil was looking at Mary questioningly. Her sister seemed tired, but also content. Maybe she wasn't as overjoyed as Sybil was when she first saw Saoirse, but it was not surprising that Mary needed more time to get accustomed to her child.

"I'll give you some advice on how to deal with a newborn, " Sybil offered to her sister.

Mary replied with a small smile, "A younger sister gives advice about children to the older… we're such an unorthodox family."

"And remember that I was also the one who went down the aisle first."

Mary only smiled faintly again. "I'm tired. I would really use some sleep. Can you and Tom take care of Matthew?"

"We will, " Sybil promised and gave her sister's hand a delicate squeeze.

She walked to Tom and informed him of Mary's wish.

Tom reacted immediately."I must drive you home, you're still under the influence. Unless you want to land in a ditch, then I won't stop you…" were the last words that Mary heard before falling asleep.

* * *

After they arrived home, they first needed to give a detailed account of what had happened at the hospital to Lord Grantham. As expected, he was immensely thrilled by the news that he had a new grandson and thus a new heir to Downton.

"Wonderful, wonderful news… and I think that I should thank you, Tom, for driving Mary to the hospital and taking care of Matthew, " Robert Crawley managed to say before heading upstairs.

Tom looked at Sybil and relished in her radiant smile. He knew how important for her was the Crawleys' acceptance of him, and that night he again proved to be helpful in time of family crisis.

They were far too excited to go to sleep. Sybil and Tom sat on the armchairs in the library, while Matthew laid down on the sofa. The house suddenly became very quiet like a lake that slowly regains its peaceful composure after the storm.

"I wouldn't be able to imagine a better ending for this Christmas, " Sybil whispered to her husband.

"A happy ending, most importantly… yes, can there be anything more fitting to occur on Christmas day than a birth of a child?"

Sybil gave him a weak smile and sighed, "What happened made me miss Saoirse terribly. It's so strange… I haven't seen her for only a few hours, and I already miss her so badly…"

"Maybe we should go and see her now… I know it's very late, but we can surely be very quiet and not wake her up."

Sybil beamed at him. "Yes, Christmas is coming to an end, and she's our little angel… and will be forever."

The Bransons got up from their armchairs and left the library in silence that was only occasionally disturbed by Matthew's loud snoring (alcohol and emotional turmoil had finally defeated him).

* * *

_**Christmas 1920**_

_It was their first family Christmas._

_Sybil woke up early to a truly wonderful sight – her two favourite people in the world sleeping together in a close embrace._

_She couldn't imagine her life without these two. She couldn't understand why she had ever had any doubts whether to marry Tom. She knew that it was impossible for her to be with anyone else but Tom._

_1920 was a difficult year which brought them a lot of changes. Maybe not everything went in accordance with their wishes; after all, they had to move to Downton and spent a few months here. But it seemed that those problems were going to be solved in 1921. They were in the midst of planning their departure from Downton, actually._

_Sybil sighed and curled herself closer to Tom and Saoirse. Not that long ago, all of her Christmases had been very similar to each other, but since she married Tom, each Christmas reminded her of how much her life had changed – for the better._

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**Are you surprised that the story ended with a birth of a child and no one died? :P Such an unexpected twist for Downton, isn't it? Hope that you enjoyed this story. I would also like to announce that soon I will be writing my Season 3 rewrite. Hope that you'll join me there too :)**


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